In the middle of the summerI'm not sleeping cold wind blowingIn the middle of the night theyTry to find me but I'm still drivingIf you're going to San FranciscoLay some flowers on the grave stoneThere's music on the stationAnd I'm just listening to cold wind whistlingAnd if they ever find meTell the papersCold wind cold wind cold cold wind blowingCold wind blowing